


The Sad Pizza Photo Is No Longer So Sad

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Band Fic, Developing Relationship, Finger kink, Food Fight, Insults, Jokes, M/M, Pining, Pizza, Sad, Spying, Tongues, Wandering eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: A new lease of life for the iconic DuranSad Pizza Photograph. At least Nick is having a good time.For the anonymous tumblr prompt: We can share, only if I can feed you.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	The Sad Pizza Photo Is No Longer So Sad

Huddled round a small table, crammed tight into a cellar of sorts, the band fumbled over each other to pull up a chair. Or, just stand there gaping at the open pizza boxes before them.

Russell, probably, had somehow managed to scramble three boxes down to them, plus a truckload of coke. John sighed at the obvious _aw, shit, it’s not Pepsi!_ joke that had been thrown multiple times his way. He wasn’t even eating anymore. Engorged brown eyes falling atop the table, he let his chin rest atop his hands: determined to not get anymore tomato sauce on his once pristine white shirt.

Andy was perched on a high chair, there had been numerous jokes about that one too, before John. Helping Nick to devour a second box, it was a nice change to see them so readily in agreement to collaborate.

Roger’s ass was cold, he had given up with the freezing tile floor and just stood before them all, working his way through a third slice.

Glancing upwards, Nick said something to John that he didn’t catch: fully in a dream like stance, eyes avoiding all the boxes before him. With a roll of his own eyes, Nick swung his head over to Simon who was perched up against something. Nick’s gaze widened as they roamed the singer, shamelessly, deciding to land right above his silver belt buckle. Simon’s stark white jacket was unbuttoned, half hanging off of his shoulder and baring his slightly sweaty chest. For once the singer was silent, although that tended to happen when he was eating.

After a beat, his eyes flickered upwards and caught Nick’s on him. Nick’s eyes were blown wide, blown dark, even through his thick eye makeup. His gaze never left Simon’s as he slowly crept a hand forward to grab another slice. Simon’s eyes followed those pesky digits, roaming up Nick’s jacketed arms and fell upon the sly look on his face.

Both sets of lips quirked upwards and Simon waggled his brows. Unable to stifle a laugh, Nick almost choked on his mouthful of cheese and pulled away, half lidded gaze landing on Simon again.

Simon was watching him intently, studying every movement. How wide he opened his jaw, whether or not he bared his teeth. When Nick flicked his tongue over his bottom lip, he inwardly smirked as he heard a sudden gasp. Nick was sure to take an extra large, extra deep bite and chew his chilli veggie whatever the hell obnoxiously: not very Nick like at all, with little grace and poise. Nick even made a mental note, taking the time to suck on two fingers, long and slow, tongue swirling, before reaching for his final piece.

Andy’s gaze flickered between the keyboardist and singer, catching a roll of Roger’s heavily smokey eyes and John, of course, hadn’t noticed a damn thing as he was still somewhat in a trance. The bassist was probably debating with himself whether to nab the final slice of Margherita or not, save some room for another bottle of vodka or not. Vodka would win out every time.

Baby blues locking on hazel again, Nick payed extra special attention to this final slice. He raised his arm, a wad of cheese half hanging off along with a pepper or two. He darted his tongue out, extending it as far as he could to catch the stray jalapeño. At that Simon gaped, almost dropping his own slice in the process.

“Oh for the love of—” John began, breaking the silence, “just bloody _feed_ it him already. Shove it down his throat. Make him gag or something.”

“What, Nigel?!”

“It’d be funny.” Andy pitched in, nodding to Simon. “C’mon Charlie.”

  
“Split the final box,” Roger nodded, Nick’s deft fingers heading right for it.

“Hungrier than the wolf, are we Nicky?”

Simon didn’t need telling twice. His heated gaze zeroed in on the keyboardist and, like a tiger, he pounced- darting straight for Nick, pizza slice in hand.

* * *

It was needless to say the food fight was well and truly on. Some good came out of five sad boys surrounded by a hoard of pizza boxes after all. Plus a hell of a lot of stray tomato stains.


End file.
